


Derek and the Real Boy

by novemberhush



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And probably not as funny as I would like it to be, But he’s still insecure, But hopefully it’s sweet too, Established Relationship, I tagged the pack in the characters section but they only really appear for like two seconds, It’s kinda cracky, M/M, Stiles has magic, Which led to this fluff and nonsense, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:57:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novemberhush/pseuds/novemberhush
Summary: Stiles is going away for a short while, but he’s not leaving Derek all by his lonesome...





	Derek and the Real Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InnerCinema](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerCinema/gifts).



> Hey! So this started as challenge on the Sterek drabbles discord server when InnerCinema challenged us to write a drabble or double drabble based on the prompt ‘voyage, voyage’. Well, I couldn’t keep it to a drabble, or even a double drabble, but this was what I came up with. The idea was sparked by a piece of trivia about Dutch sailors that I picked up from an episode of ‘Rizzoli and Isles’ and the title was inspired by the movie ‘Lars and the Real Girl’, which if you’ve seen it may give you a clue as to who the mysterious Mark is... ;-)

Derek stopped short as he entered the house, hackles rising and wolf immediately going on the defensive. Something wasn’t right. Everything looked, smelled and sounded right. _But something wasn’t right._

 

He looked around. Yep, Stiles was seated on the couch, head bent forward slightly, probably poring over some ancient tome or other in preparation for his upcoming trip to what basically amounted to magic camp for promising young sparks. He hadn’t acknowledged Derek’s return, but that wasn’t unusual when he was absorbed in something.

 

He took a deep sniff of the air. Yep, the house smelled like him, Stiles, pack, family.

 

He listened intently. Yep, he could hear Stiles’ heart beat, strong, sure, true, fierce.

 

And coming from upstairs.

 

But… he could see the outline of Stiles on the couch in the living room _downstairs._

 

Derek shifted instantly, ready to attack whatever the thing, the _imposter_ , on the couch was because he knew that _his_ Stiles, the _real_ Stiles, was upstairs.

 

Slipping quietly into the living room, he’d just started edging his way slowly round the couch when the said real Stiles came bounding down the stairs.

 

“Hey, Der, did you get…” he began, before stopping mid sentence, taking in the sight of Derek all wolfed out. “Um, what’s going on, big guy? Why’d you go all Lon Chaney on me?”

 

Derek tried to shush him, indicating the (possibly deaf) interloper on the couch.

 

“Oh, that’s just Mark, silly. No need to get medieval on his ass. Well, unless you really want to…” Stiles positively leered.

 

“Mark?” Derek enquired, relaxing somewhat at Stiles’ nonchalant attitude toward the stranger in their living room. _The stranger that just happened to bear an uncanny likeness to his boyfriend and didn’t appear to have a heartbeat._ Derek suddenly had an idea where this was going and he wasn’t sure it was anywhere he felt comfortable...

 

“Yeah, Mark. As in Stiles Mark 2. I found this company online that specializes in custom-made love dolls and seeing as how I’m gonna be away for most of next month leaving you all by your lonesome, well, I thought…”

 

Derek glared.

 

“Well, I thought I’d surprise you. Surprise!”

 

Derek glared some more.

 

Stiles started to babble, probably rethinking the wisdom of this particular purchase. “Did you know Dutch sailors used to take sex dolls with them on long voyages? They called them ‘dame de voyage’ and, well, I guess technically Mark here would be a _homme_ de voyage, except he’s not actually going anywhere, I am, and…”

 

Stiles babbled on as the thought struck Derek that if he were a character in a story this would probably be around the time he started pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and sighing longsufferingly.

 

“Stiles, send it back.”

 

“But… but… _Der!_ ” Stiles was actually _pouting_ at the thought of returning this… thing. Derek decided now was definitely the time for a longsuffering sigh.

 

“Stiles, it may have escaped your notice, but I am _not_ a Dutch sailor! I’m perfectly capable of going a few weeks without sex without having to resort to, to…”, he flailed his arms in the direction of Mark (and, dear God help him, he’d started to think of it as _Mark_ now too!), “... _this!!_ ”

 

“Shush! You’ll hurt his feelings!” Stiles said, darting on to the couch to cover Mark’s ears with his hands, causing Derek to roll his eyes harder than he ever had before (and that was saying something).

 

“Besides,” Stiles mumbled, not meeting Derek’s eye. “They don’t do refunds, unless the doll is faulty. And Mark here is perfect. He’s a perfect in every way, life-sized, anatomically correct replica of me. Right down to the mole on his di-“

 

“Yes! Okay! I get the picture!” Derek cut him off, blushing despite himself and the fact that in their three years together he had become intimately familiar with every single mole on Stiles’ body. He’d been face to, er, face with that particular one many times. Many, _many_ times.

 

Stiles was smirking now, enjoying Derek’s embarrassment. “You like that one, don’t you, Der? That’s your favourite of my moles, isn’t it?”

 

“No, it’s…” Derek blushed some more. “No, it’s _one_ of my favourites, but it’s not my _most_ favourite.”

 

“No?” Stiles asked, head tilting to the side as he pondered that statement, obviously curious as to which of his moles _was_ Derek’s most favourite.

 

Derek rolled his eyes again, but fondly this time. “No,” he said, stepping forward and raising his hand to brush it against his lover’s soft cheek. “This one is.” He bent down to place a light kiss against the small beauty spot to the left of Stiles’ mouth.

 

Stiles’ eyes fluttered shut. When they opened again he looked up at Derek and the words “That was the first place you ever kissed me” came out on a breathy whisper.

 

“I know,” Derek whispered back, smiling. “You laughed because you thought I’d missed your mouth and you were so bright and happy that I never corrected you, but I was aiming for this spot the whole time. I kissed every single one of your moles that night.”

 

“Well, not every-“

 

“Every one on your _face_ , Stiles!”

 

Stiles grinned up at him, reaching up to cover Derek’s hand that was still cupping his face with his own.

 

“You really are just a big marshmallow, aren’t ya, big guy? All rough and tough and ‘grr’ on the outside...” - and here Stiles raised both his hands and fashioned them into claws while scrunching up his face at the same time in apparent imitation of Derek in his shifted form - “... while all the time you’re really just all soft and squishy and ‘purrrrrrrrrr’ on the inside.” This last was, of course, said with a perfect catlike inflection.

 

“I’ll show you ‘grr’ and ‘purrrrrrrrrr’,” Derek growled before tackling him back across the couch, Mark and all. Several minutes and a great many breathless kisses later Derek rearranged them with Stiles in his lap, his hand once again wandering to Stiles’ left cheek to stroke across it and his favourite mole.

 

Unable to bear looking away from Stiles for even a second right then he jerked his head in the doll’s direction. “I appreciate the thought, but anatomically correct or not, perfect down to every last detail or not, no doll will ever come close to the genuine article for me. Nothing and no one will. Only you, Stiles. Only you.”

 

It was Stiles’ turn to sigh now, but Derek didn’t miss the warmth behind it. “I’m gonna have to stop calling you ‘Sourwolf’ if you keep saying things like that, you know.” He rubbed his nose back and forth against Derek’s cheek. “But are you _sure_ you wouldn’t like to take Mark here for a test run?”

 

Derek groaned. “Stiles, no… just… let it go. It’s not happening.”

 

He felt Stiles’ grip tighten slightly around his neck as he lifted his head to whisper in Derek’s ear. “Maybe you’d rather watch as I got on it on with a perfect replica of myself? I’m sure Mark and I could manage to have some fun together. After all, you know what they say - who else but yourself would know better how to get you off?”

 

The self-satisfied look he sported after he said this was enough to let Derek know that he had felt the interested twitch his words had caused in Derek’s pants.

 

“Why, Mr. Hale,” Stiles drawled in a faux Southern belle voice, “I do declare.” Reverting back to his normal accent, he added, “Something tells me you like the sound of that. Huh, big guy? Does that do it for you? The thought of watching me with, well, _me_? Two bangs for your buck, so to speak. Is that it? Because that could be arranged…”

 

Derek would be lying if he said the image of Stiles getting it on with his double didn’t get his blood rushing southwards, but he knew it was a fantasy best kept as just that, a fantasy. One to be kept in his head and perhaps brought out on one of the no doubt lonely nights when Stiles would be away next month and Derek used his hand to relief some of the loneliness and frustration. But not one to actually be made reality. Thinking about it was one thing. Actually seeing it happen in front of him was another.

 

Derek told Stiles as much. He was pretty open in the bedroom, they both were, but this, bringing a third into their activities, even one that was a replica of one of them and wasn’t even a living, breathing entity in its own right went beyond what Derek was comfortable with.

 

Besides, they might have got many things right with Mark, but the dull, lifeless eyes betrayed everything else. They lacked that spark that made Stiles ‘Stiles’. No doll could ever hope to capture the life force that surged through the real McCoy Derek held in his arms, and Derek would never want them to. Stiles was special, unique, _alive._ And he was Derek’s. Every last atom of him, moles and all. Nothing could replicate that or even come close.

 

“So I’m guessing I should probably email the company and cancel the order for _your_ lookalike then?”

 

“What??” Derek barked before catching the glint of amusement in those eyes he’d just been rhapsodizing about and realizing Stiles was pulling his leg. “Oh, very funny.”

 

They cuddled closer, exchanging another few lazy kisses. But Derek found himself unable to relax fully. Just because he wasn’t interested in having the doll around didn’t mean Stiles wasn’t and he didn’t want Stiles to have to forgo something he wanted just because it wasn’t Derek’s thing.

 

“Look, if you,” Derek began tentatively, stopping to clear his throat, “if you really wanna mess around with the doll, either on your own or with me, it’s fine, you can, we can, whatever. I don’t want you missing out on something you’re interested in just because of my hang-ups.” He was blushing again he knew, and he couldn’t make eye contact with Stiles.

 

But Stiles saved him, just like he always did.

 

Lifting Derek’s chin with a careful hand so they were looking at each other again he fixed Derek with a look that seemed to say _now you listen to me, Derek Hale, and listen good. “_ Derek, do you wanna know the real reason I bought that thing?”

 

“It wasn’t for the wild, kinky sex?” Derek couldn’t resist quipping and was rewarded with a smirk and an epic eye roll for his efforts.

 

“No, it wasn’t for that!”

 

“Then why?” Derek asked, genuinely curious.

 

Stiles expression became serious and this time he was the one who looked away. Following his earlier lead, Derek slipped a hand under Stiles’ chin and raised it until he looked at Derek again.

 

“Hey, you can tell me anything, you know that.”

 

Stiles nodded. “I do. I do know that. But I’m ashamed of why I bought this thing.”

 

Derek dismissed the notion of shame with a shake of his head and a resolute “Tell me.”

 

Stiles sighed, still clearly reluctant to share, but not wanting to keep the truth to himself any longer either. “I bought it because I was afraid.”

 

Derek started at him blankly. “Afraid?” he asked, puzzled.

 

“Afraid that with me gone for so long you might… you might get used to not having me around. You might get used to living without me. And you might like it. You might like not having to spend every day putting up with a hyperactive, loudmouth klutz that sometimes wakes up screaming and challenges you on _everything_ and who never knows when to shut up and-“

 

He didn’t get further than that, cut off as he was by Derek’s tongue in his mouth.

 

“Idiot.” Derek murmured against his lips when they came up for air again. “Complete. And. Utter. Idiot.” Each word was punctuated by a kiss pressed into whatever part of Stiles’ body Derek could reach. Lips. Cheek. Neck. Shoulder.

 

“I will _never_ get used to not having you with me. When we’re not together it feels like half of me is missing. This time apart is gonna kill me because now I’ve had this with you I will never get used to living without you. You’re not the only one who still wakes up screaming sometimes. And I _love_ that you challenge me, just like you love that _I_ challenge _you_. And as for the never shutting up.., well, yeah, actually if you could do something about that that’d be grea- Ow!”

 

He grinned, making a show of rubbing his head where Stiles had gently clipped him for that last remark.

 

Stiles huffed at him. “You deserved that, Hale! And you were doing so good before that…”

 

He pulled Stiles closer, resting his head on his shoulder. “What I’m trying to say, no doubt very badly, is that you’re in my blood now, Stilinski. You’re part of me and I never want to be without you. I’m going to spend every single second of every single day you’re away missing you, missing _us,_ and I don’t need any doll here to remind me of you, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Stiles whispered into his hair, dropping a kiss there and clinging tighter to Derek. “Okay.”

 

“Can we make out again now?” Derek asked hopefully.

 

Stiles laughed. “That’s an affirmative, my not so Sourwolf.”

 

“Good,” Derek replied. “But do you think we could either go upstairs or stash Mark here in the hall closet or something because he is creeping me out. It’s like he’s watching us with those cold, dead eyes of his.”

 

The real Stiles’ eyes bubbled with affection and mirth, but he acquiesced and climbed out of Derek’s lap just long enough to stash the offending Mark in the closet under the stairs.

 

Which is where he stayed until the pack came over to keep Derek company the first night Stiles was away the following month. All eyes turned to Derek, some amused, some intrigued and some downright horrified, when Scott opened the closet door to hang up their coats and the anatomically correct, life-sized replica doll of Stiles fell out at his feet, mouth open to form a perfect ‘O’...

 

“I… I can explain!” a blushing Derek stuttered out, cursing Stiles’ absence for a whole new reason and vowing to kill him for this when he got back.

 

“This should be good,” Erica beamed, barely able to contain her glee and looking for all the world like all she was missing was some popcorn.

 

“I don’t think I wanna know,” Scott mumbled.

 

“I _know_ I don’t wanna know!” Isaac declared.

 

Boyd avoided meeting Derek’s eye and said nothing.

 

Lydia and Allison just exchanged knowing looks.

 

“What goes on between you and Stiles, and… other Stiles… is your business, Derek,” Lydia stated primly.

 

“His name’s Mark,” Derek heard himself say through gritted teeth, and just why he had felt the need to share that particular piece of information he couldn’t even begin to tell you. Especially given the reaction it elicited from the rest of the pack.

 

Erica actually _squealed_ with delight while Allison and Lydia dissolved into a fit of giggles. Scott and Isaac visibly blanched even more than they already had at the thought of Stiles and Derek having named this creation. Boyd, meanwhile, still couldn’t make eye contact with Derek and seemed like he’d rather be anywhere but there right then. Derek could relate.

 

Yep, he was gonna kill Stiles when he got back.

 

Right after he kissed him, hugged him, told him how much he’d missed him and dragged him upstairs to have his wicked way with him. And proposed to him. But right after that, yeah, Derek was _definitely_ gonna kill him for this.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hey again! Thanks for reading.i hope you enjoyed it. If you feel like sharing your thoughts on the story, or just wanna say hi, please feel free to do so, either here in the comments section or over on tumblr where I’m also known as novemberhush. xxx


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